


Kill The Medic First

by Tridraconeus



Series: Marigold Balm [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Interrogation, Medical Ninja, Mild Humor, Sleep Deprivation, Suicide mention, T&I, Threats of torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22194730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridraconeus/pseuds/Tridraconeus
Summary: They brought back a medical-nin. Ibiki asked them why. Their defense was that he was an easy target, distracted and worn out from caring for multiple patients, easily brought down and transported.Yes, perhaps in that, Ibiki had to agree. An exhausted, isolated medical-nin was easy prey.Tokill, not interrogate.
Series: Marigold Balm [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605055
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	1. Kill The Medic First

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up liking Yasu, my medical-nin from [Burning Off The Mist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438291/chapters/46263166), talked with friends about him, he’s Kusa now?  
> What is known: he has a big heart and a lot of love to give, he’s a very dedicated medical-nin, he loves drama and gossip, he lost a bet in the hospital and had to dye his hair blue but ended up liking it, his best friend is also a medical-nin who is exceedingly done with men.  
> At first this was just wanting to explore how he came to Konoha in the first place but then I decided that AUs can be AUs because Ibiki having to try to run an interrogation that rapidly goes off the rails in ways he can’t predict and doesn’t like is funny to me. Then it turned into a character study of Ibiki as usual.

It was Konoha against Kumo and Kiri; Kusa, foolishly, had sided with Kumo, judged as the primary aggressor. Kiri was much more an independent entity, causing trouble where they could and mainly in it for the glory, for the bloodshed, for information they could glean, and barely active enough to be a threat. Spies, mostly, or genin whetting their appetite for blood.

It didn’t explain why Kusa had sided with Kumo, given how hesitant they were to side with _anybody_. Their leader was entirely unavailable. The Intelligence division suspected subterfuge; especially when all other lines of communication with Kusa closed off suddenly, with no warning or explanation. The whole situation stank of underhanded dealings that Konoha had barely enough resources to investigate.

That left only one avenue; not really, but the most direct and anticipated one in wartime; capture and interrogation. Ibiki directed them to take an easy target, which he expected to be a genin or chūnin on the front lines.

They brought back a medical-nin. Ibiki asked them why. Their defense was that he was an easy target, distracted and worn out from caring for multiple patients, easily brought down and transported. 

Yes, perhaps in that, Ibiki had to agree. An exhausted, isolated medical-nin was easy prey. 

To _kill_ , not interrogate. 

He got what information he could from dog tags and prepared to dig through records.

His name was Kamomīru Yasu and he was just about to turn seventeen. He’d become a chūnin at twelve and ceased learning any offensive ninjutsu or techniques at all, entering training in Kusa’s hospital. He became a tokujou at sixteen— one of the village’s youngest. He’d healed a direct heart injury; he’d displayed mastery of medical chakra; he’d stayed awake for a week to watch over and heal an entire ward struck down by devastating summer sickness. He was far from a prodigy, but he was suitably advanced enough in healing that they ignored rules to put him on the battlefield. 

So much was known about him because Konoha’s spy in Kusa had been bedridden with a different season’s summer fever. Yasu was highly skilled and entirely competent; he was also terribly sweet, and even more terrible of a gossip, and indeed most of the medical-nin staffing Kusa’s hospital were terrible gossips. Any small interesting tidbit of information made its way through the wards until the entire hospital knew about it. It was appropriate for a village of info brokers, Ibiki supposed— and it led to a potential lead about Kusa’s sudden silence, so when he reluctantly made himself think about it the choice to capture a medical-nin was _exceedingly_ prudent.

Ibiki wouldn’t have believed him to be a tokujou, not with his shock of blue hair and unscarred face. 

He had scars on his body, though. There were a few recent injuries— attacking a medical-nin wasn’t against the laws that governed warfare, but was generally considered dishonorable and an admission of desperation; they were far behind frontlines and spent their time caring for the injured.

The most recent injuries were from his capture and were nothing more than bruises; Ibiki recognized a particularly florid one on his wrist from where he’d been grabbed after severing one of his captor’s calves straight through with a chakra scalpel. Medical-nin, especially Kusa medical-nin, did not necessitate rough handling. He’d quieted down after that, especially when it was pointed out how close they were to an encampment of injured, exhausted shinobi. 

He was sitting in an otherwise empty interrogation room, fidgeting slightly. He’d been cuffed to the table by his wrists— Ibiki didn’t think it would be necessary, but it was procedure. The medical-nin had a heavy edge of exhaustion in the curve of his shoulders. He must have been taken before being able to rest. 

He held the recording device in his hand, sighed, and opened the door.

“Before we start, is there anything you would like to say? If you have any defiance or threats, I suggest you get them out now.” Ibiki placed down the recording device in the middle of the table, forgoing sitting down to walk slowly around the table instead; looking down on Yasu, gauging his mental state— understandably nervous, but otherwise calm. 

Yasu fidgeted with his fingers for a few moments, avoiding eye contact, and eventually shook his head. 

“I don’t intend to hurt you if you make this easy for me.” 

Yasu made a noise in the back of his throat that Ibiki couldn’t place as either derisive or afraid. 

“You know I can’t make this easy for you.” 

Ibiki understood why he was a good medical-nin. His voice was steady and clear, and above that was pleasant to listen to, endeavoring to be mild and inoffensive even with what he was saying. Ibiki could easily imagine him calming someone down and healing them. 

Hopefully, he would be cooperative even with the bluff and bluster. Ibiki would like to finish this without having to use physical interrogation methods. 

“What is your role in all of this?”

Yasu looked at him, dark eyes doe-soft and an uneasy breed of reserved. 

“I am a medical-nin. I heal my comrades and ensure they can continue to serve our village.”

“The shinobi responsible for your capture report that you were close to the front lines.” It was just unorthodox enough to draw attention; just off enough from normal to merit a question. Yasu continued to meet his eyes. 

My, but his eyes were still _soft._ He looked open and vulnerable. He looked completely harmless and helpless and he was a _medical-nin_ and that made Ibiki want to protect him. He knew better than to fall for it; he also knew better than to congratulate the Kusa-nin on his intense psychological warfare. 

“We were ordered to follow as closely as possible to minimize the downtime of injury.” 

It answered the question, but not enough. It wasn’t what Ibiki wanted— what he knew was hiding under the surface. 

“It’s a tactically unsound practice.” He gestured to the table. “As to why, you now have first-hand experience.”

Yasu looked away. His eyes half-shut, mournful and reluctant. Ibiki let out a breath loud enough for the medical-nin to hear it.

“I’ll ask again. What is your role in all this?”

“They are sent out to die, and I am sent to steal them from death.” That was strange. Ibiki drummed his fingers on the table. Yasu breathed out, slowly, and continued. “If they’re strong enough to struggle, I’m skilled enough to save them.” 

“You say they’re sent out to die. Why is Kusa still sending their shinobi out when they know they’ll only be killed?”

Yasu looked down at his hands— he could be pondering the question or coming up with a suitable diversion. Ibiki knew better than to underestimate the medical-nin, especially a tokujou. 

Yasu finally shrugged. ”I’m not on the council. I don’t know.” 

A perfectly acceptable answer.

A lie. Not the first part, but he did know. Ibiki didn’t call him on it, not yet, just grunted. “Why do you think they won’t back down?” 

Yasu shook his head. “My duty is to heal my comrades, not question the will of the council.”

He knew something— he obviously did. Ibiki just didn’t know the angle to hit to get at it. 

A strange sensation. 

“I’ve been implored to keep my interrogations painless and humane when working on medical-nin, but you’re trying my patience.” Violence, maybe. Fear of pain. Ibiki knew his reputation. 

Yasu, however, did not appear afraid— or surprised. “Suggestive questioning did not work, so now you employ threats of violence. You will not, of course, but you will leave me alone for a day or more before attempting to get intelligence from me again.” He stared at Ibiki. He cocked his head. He was still terribly soft, but now in the way an animal was soft; a cat, perhaps, curled up and purring but always with the threat of claws. “It’s time sensitive. You may resort to violence sooner.”

 _That_ was why. Ibiki nearly sighed. Kusa had a robust intelligence division, though it was far more heavily based in debriefing their own spies and shinobi than interrogation. Yasu must have worked in their intelligence division as a medical-nin. 

“So you know interrogation tactics. Do you know reputation?” 

Yasu’s jaw flexed. He was clenching his teeth. Ibiki looked down on him, as impassive as he could be while the medical-nin gathered up his thoughts.

“I know who you are,” he said finally. 

“Then you know that I will break you.” It wasn’t a boast, not necessarily, just a fact. Ibiki was the best, and if Yasu was a typical Kusa medical-nin he hadn’t received any training on how to resist torture. Even if he had, Ibiki took pride in his work; a teenaged medical-nin stood no chance against him. 

“Not in time.” Yasu stared at him. He took and let out a breath that sounded very decisive.

Ibiki suddenly slammed his hand down on the metal table. It clanged, loudly, and Yasu flinched. It was a crude tactic but the message— _it could be you_ — was clear. 

“Don’t challenge me. You won’t like where it gets you.” 

That was that for that session. He had Yasu moved into a cell where the lights were too bright to allow him sleep and left him. It would seem foolish to the medical-nin— staying awake all night in a painfully bright room was what working in the hospital was _like_ — but it still would wear on him, and where Ibiki considered himself clever was that Yasu wouldn’t even notice the strain because he was so used to it. It would be there; it would bite at him. It would grow to be agonizing as time built on itself and he was incapable of grabbing the brief naps most medical-nin were used to getting through the day. 

When Yasu was removed in the evening for his next session, he immediately collapsed. Ibiki realized to himself that subjecting a medical-nin who had already been enduring a punishing wartime schedule to sleep deprivation may have not been the best idea. He had Yasu woken up and chained to the interrogation room table once again, and tried to question him.

He was frayed with exhaustion and pointed out that Ibiki’s scars needed treatment. He recommended a scar cream, then asked for clarification as to why he was advising a Konoha-nin, and then Ibiki reminded him that he was a _prisoner_ and this was an _interrogation_. He said _what_? and passed out again. Ibiki woke him up again. 

“I recognize you,” he said very seriously. His eyes were soft; underneath, the raw current of exhaustion. Ibiki resisted the urge to rub his temples. It wasn’t some elaborate act, because Yasu was most definitely a medical-nin, and Yasu probably wasn’t trying to mess with his head-- he’d been out cold, chakra flaring from a medical-nin’s careful guttered-but-calm second-nature projection to _fear_ and _pain_ , and now it was restrained once more. His hands were pulled almost to his chest, but couldn’t quite make it due to the short lengths of chain connecting him to the table.

“Cooperate, and this can end here.”

The expression changed, first in minute ways of questioning _Ibiki’s_ intentions and then a faster slide into incredulity and distrust. “Will it?” _Have you_ really _been taking your medicine?_ , his tone suggested. Ibiki set his arms on the table; shoulder-length apart, preserving his height but far enough apart to let him bend his elbows and get closer comfortably, a pose that took a surprising amount of practice to get looking right. It was second nature by now; this was a war of second nature. Ibiki _wasn’t_ going to crack first.

“It will.” 

He just needed time to get under the medical-nin’s skin; with enough inconspicuous questions, he’d be able to uncover the right raw spots to poke and prod at. 

“I won’t betray my comrades.” _Comrades_. That was the second time now he’d emphasized his countrymen over the village itself. It indicated a multitude of things; most importantly that Yasu likely had more loyalty to his fellow soldiers than to those who had ordered the war, and that there was certainly unrest in Kusa. 

Ibiki did not respond, opting instead to stare the medical-nin down across the table; leaning forward the slightest bit after a stretch of time that Ibiki counted out carefully. Yasu made a small noise in the back of his throat and tugged once more at the chains; only then did Ibiki allow himself to continue. “I know you know information vital to ending this war before it grows out of control.” 

What knowledge had Yasu surrendered, thus far? Only that Kusa knew how outmanned they were, and quick response was a necessity to prevent them being overrun, even with what piecemeal reinforcements their allies could spare.

It was worth a shot. He leaned back, withdrawing from the table to pace instead; adding some energy to the room, forcing Yasu to follow with his eyes in constant anticipation

“Of course, the forces at the front don’t know that Kusagakure is depending so heavily on medical-nin to rapidly return their forces to fighting shape, do they?”

That was it; that was a spot. Yasu made a low, fearful noise, like a wounded animal, and shrank back. 

“I didn’t know either, until you told me.” He lowered his own voice. He was far enough away that Yasu would have to strain to hear. “Thank you for that.” Hopefully, Yasu wouldn’t call him on the lie; interrogation was a high-stress situation and he’d likely forgotten. _Ibiki_ certainly remembered asking him why medical-nin were so close to the front lines. “No--” His eyes were wide again, harmless and helpless and vulnerable, now masked with terror. Ibiki had said it plainly with just enough suggestiveness to ply at Yasu’s sensibilities. As a medical-nin, he knew his value; he knew the value of his fellow medical-nin; and he knew how thoroughly a small fighting force like the one Kusa had fielded could be crippled if their medical-nin were eliminated. It had been honor that kept the medical-nin standing thus far that close to the front lines, and a small lapse in honor that had seen Yasu captured. A larger lapse was the reasonable next step. Ibiki advanced on him again. The time was right to close the distance, but from the front; not from the back like he was fond of. Yasu needed to retreat back into the chair, not toward the table. He messed with his hands and tugged them to himself. It was a pointless self-soothing gesture and the more difficult Ibiki could make it the less likely it was that it would help. 

“It would be a bloodbath.”

He had Yasu playing into his hand by now, of course, desperate to save his countrymen; Ibiki liked medical-nin because of that. They understood that sometimes it was better to surrender, safer to face defeat, and would not throw their lives at the faintest sliver of victory. Ibiki hadn’t yet met a medical-nin willing to lose to death; sometimes, that meant being willing to lose to others. If Yasu was the last remaining of his squad, Ibiki knew he would be dealing with an entirely different creature.

He was _very_ glad that he was not. He was glad he was dealing with something noble and soft-hearted. He’d worked on a medical-nin that was the last of their squad only twice before; both times he’d ended up turning the poor, deranged thing over to the Analysis Team. 

“Tell me what’s going on in Kusa’s council. The hospital. Why are they fighting this war? All it will do is tear the village apart and kill thousands. For what _reason_? You can _end_ it.” Ibiki anticipated another argument; more resistance. If he’d calculated correctly, hearing everything laid out in words would weaken his defenses until they finally crumbled. Ibiki likely wouldn’t even have to be that patient. 

“Don’t say I’ll be a _hero_ ,” he spat-- tried to spit. It sounded very bitter, but without sufficient rancor. It sounded tired-- he _had_ to be tired. Had to be exhausted. “I’ll be a traitor.”

“You’re right. You’re never going to be a hero.” That made Yasu shut up, most likely out of confusion. He snapped his mouth shut and stared at Ibiki, shocked into listening instead of simply parrying whatever Ibiki said. “You’ve worked in rehabilitation before,” he ventured. “It’s the first steps that are hardest. You know that.”

Yasu looked away. He’d probably reached the conclusion of the point Ibiki was trying to make already. It was hard not to, working on wards with injured shinobi; he’d sent recovered shinobi off to the recovery ward a few times, staggering and stumbling in bodies that were too close to giving out. That _had giv_ en out and were shambling around by virtue of chakra and willpower. It was horrifying; more horrifying when they didn’t seem to realize that they were carrying around something close to a corpse. 

“Nobody wants to admit that they’re fighting a losing battle.” 

“It’s a losing battle,” Yasu admitted, voice gone softer and pleading. He didn’t want Ibiki to go on; Ibiki had successfully managed to convince him that he’d be able to help if he cooperated, but he still didn’t want to. 

“You’re not a hero for making someone stay down until they’ve recovered. You’re just making sure they don’t worsen their condition.” Ibiki let himself smile, a cynical twitch of his lips, and pulled his own chair out to sit down. De-escalating. Inviting Yasu to converse. A _soft_ touch, or else he’d lose all the progress he’d made. “They’re usually not too happy about that.” 

“No…” His hands were on the table now, thumbing the chains. 

“It will reduce casualties.” 

Another soft, pained noise. Yasu tried to bring his hands up to hide his face; he couldn’t, managing only to touch his fingertips to his forehead. 

“I know you want only to protect your comrades.” 

Yasu nodded. Through his fingers, Ibiki could see that he was staring at the area of the table where the chains at his wrists connected, but it was a distant and unseeing stare.

“You can still do that. You just need to tell me what’s going on. I know it’s out of your hands.”

He hadn’t meant to drive Yasu into silence, but it would be easy enough to lure him back out now that he had a fairly good idea of what made him tick. “I know you didn’t want to go to war.” 

_A shinobi is a tool_ , Ibiki thought to himself, and could see the same thought pass Yasu’s mind; his fingers twitched. A tool does not ache, or hunger for glory, or yearn for peace; it does not cry for a fallen comrade. It does not bleed. It does not betray-- it cannot turn on the unworthy hand that wields it. Shinobi do all those things. 

“Who would want to go to war?” Yasu said finally. 

Ibiki let him sit with that. Sat with it, himself. The sentiment died in the clinical interrogation room. 

“Only those who will not suffer from it.” 

That was the right thing to say. Kusa should have stayed decidedly neutral, if all their medical-nin were as easy to unravel and read like a children’s scroll. “Will you tell me?”

Yasu nodded again. 

“The Raikage sent a spy to the hospital a few months ago. He had a sealed scroll in his stomach. It was delivered to the address. The next day, the councilmember it was addressed to died, and his son took his place.”

“Go on,” Ibiki prompted. 

Yasu told him; Ibiki knew he would. 

“Thank you,” Ibiki said, once he’d finished and said nothing more. He clicked the recording device off. Yasu was trying to hide his head in his hands again; he looked tired, and sick, and quietly horrified at what he’d just done. 

“Don’t thank me.” He sounded sick, too. His voice was frayed with exhaustion. 

Ibiki passed him in silence, opening the door and turning to close it securetly.

“How did it go?” The chūnin guard looked at him, mildly curious. Ibiki tucked his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.

“I didn’t even have to lay a hand on him.” 

The chūnin nodded. “He’s a lucky one. Have a good day, Ibiki-san.”

Ibiki grunted in response and continued down the hall to transcribe the notes and fill out paperwork. On the way home, he picked up a tin of scar cream.


	2. Mercy for the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasu goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sort of spur-of-the-moment, worked on in a big bite and then a bunch of little nibbles, and now this fic is done!

Ibiki opened the door to Yasu’s cell a week after returning him there. It was agreed that he would remain there until the war was over or a prisoner exchange could be secured. 

Yasu liked the security of distance given by sitting in the far back of his cell, liked the small comfort provided by his cot even if it was bolted to the ground, and had taken to draping the blanket over his shoulders like a cape. He’d caused some difficulty the first three days, though not on purpose; he’d been too anxious to keep food down or sleep. He’d been pale and sick with worry. His water had been laced with sedatives on the fourth day and that had been just enough to calm him down and put him to sleep. Ibiki didn’t ask who authorized that, but suspected Kumadori; medical-nin looked after each other in small ways. 

Yasu was awake, sitting cross-legged and as small as he could be, when Ibiki finished opening the door. 

“Interrogator-san,” he murmured. 

“You know my name.” He tossed a pair of cuffs to skid until they came to a stop before Yasu’s folded legs. Yasu looked at him, eyes still reminding Ibiki of a wounded deer. Ibiki waited at the entrance to his cell as Yasu fastened the cuffs around his wrists. 

“I told you everything,” he said finally, softly, pleading. 

Ibiki weighed the benefits of responding, and of _how_ to respond. 

“I believe you,” he settled on. He gestured for Yasu to approach and follow him, backing away from the door. There was nowhere he could run that Ibiki wouldn’t be able to find him in the Intelligence building, and Ibiki doubted he would be that foolish. Normally he would at least make a prisoner walk in _front_ of him. 

“A group of Kusa-nin who oppose Kumo’s annexation of the land reached out when they discovered Konoha had taken a Kusa-nin into custody. They promised me a captive far more valuable than you.”

The sound of footsteps behind him stopped abruptly. Yasu’s chakra control was too great to betray what he was thinking. Ibiki did not yet turn around, but stopped as well. 

“I’m to be killed.” Yasu’s voice shook. Ibiki sighed internally, and turned— Yasu’s eyes had welled up with tears. His hands hung limply in front of him. Ibiki knew how foreign of a language uncertainty was to him, so his belief that he was to be killed must be absolute; just as his belief that betraying his village would reduce casualties had to have been made absolute before he cooperated. 

“I didn’t tell them whether you told me anything or not.” Truthfully, he couldn’t assure Yasu that he _wasn’t_ going to be killed. There had been a small debate about that within the Intelligence Division, even, about whether it was worth it to spare a cell and food for him. They couldn’t give him up for nothing, a medical-nin was too valuable of an asset; Kusa wouldn’t trade anything to get him back. There was an impasse there. Ibiki had suggested simply executing him now that his use had run out. There was an impasse _there_ , which he expected and did not fight. Kumadori advocated leniency, and had gotten most of the Analysis Team on his side, _including_ Inoichi, so it was agreed that he would stay in the cell. 

“I told you everything,” Yasu repeated, bitterly this time. He raised his arms to wipe his face, emotions once again under control. 

“You’re a medical-nin. Your comrades would be foolish to kill you.” 

That was all the words they exchanged as Ibiki finished gathering a small squad, and then they headed to the bridge where the exchange would take place.

The insurrectionists— the loyalists? Ibiki wasn’t sure what to call them yet— were already in place. A man, blindfolded and gagged, was on his knees between two of them, and Ibiki saw the white clothes of a medical-nin keeping watch. 

Yasu perked up at the sight; he picked up his step to be even with Ibiki, and then to be ahead of him. 

“Mariko!”

Ibiki knew better than to actively pull out a weapon, but it still startled him, and startled the rest of the group; the medical-nin from Kusa’s side hopped from her watchpoint and darted over the bridge, heading directly for Yasu and finally stopping in front of him to envelop him in a hug. 

“Why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to come get you.” Any fear Yasu might have been feeling was gone now; he leaned into Mariko, head on her shoulder, uncaring as to how that looked to the small group of Konoha shinobi. 

“You’re a defector too,” Ibiki said to her. She looked up at him— her arms were wrapped loosely around Yasu, holding him close, trying to angle him away and make herself a barrier between him and Ibiki. 

“I suppose I am.” 

“Medical-nin don’t normally defect.” He kept his voice neutral. This was a simple conversation, nothing more, and she didn’t have to tell him anything. He was lucky she was even _talking_ to him. 

“Did Yasu tell you about the orders we received about a month ago?” 

Yasu turned his face away. He was hiding himself as well as he could, clinging to her for support and safety. His hands were still cuffed in front of him, but they were bunched in the hem of her medical-nin’s jacket. 

“He didn’t.” Of course, he knew that medical-nin had been ordered to hug the front lines, but that order was far over a month old. 

_Told him everything, huh_? Ibiki avoided letting his gaze settle too heavily on Yasu’s shoulders. He was sure Yasu felt it nonetheless.

“We were told, if we had to choose between having one shinobi in fighting shape and one dead or having two living invalids, to choose the fighter.” 

Her voice reflected tightly-controlled anger. “We can’t be treated like machines. We can’t be told to let someone die. And I was sick of healing the same person over and over until I finally had to let them suffer in favor of someone who could return to the battlefield.”

The venom in her voice surprised even him, but it was softened by weariness. 

“I thought that medical-nin abhorred inaction.” He still had to unlock the cuffs around Yasu’s wrists. He’d need to separate the two medical-nin to do that, and didn’t foresee that happening any time soon. Mariko narrowed her eyes. She squeezed Yasu more tightly, even; one of her hands was cradling the back of his head in an undeniably protective gesture. He turned his face into her neck, content to be used as a giant teddy bear for the time being. 

“I had to choose whoever had the best chance of returning to the field. I wasn’t permitted to treat the other. We all knew that.” She drew in a breath, then sighed, explosively. “They knew they would not survive. They did not want to _suffer slowly_.” Their eyes met and Ibiki felt for a moment, strongly, that he should look away; he ignored it. He felt suddenly and uncomfortably hot, skin prickling under his trench coat, like it was peeling away from him. “Is their blood on my hands, as well, Interrogator-san?”

Yasu muttered something into her neck that Ibiki couldn’t hear, but he read the flickering tide of emotion that showed plainly on her face easily enough instead; exasperation, fondness, _relief_. Knowing what he did of Yasu, it had been something sassy, and likely at Ibiki’s expense. He didn’t dignify either of them with an answer and pulled the key to Yasu’s cuffs out of his pocket instead, gesturing-- to Mariko, since Yasu wasn’t looking at him. 

The cuffs were off in short order. Mariko made a gesture to her side of the bridge, and Ibiki noted the mess of injuries on the small group of insurrectionists. 

“Good luck,” she told him; sincerely. She had her hand on Yasu’s elbow. Ibiki had been easily forgiven, now that they were tangentially on the same side, or perhaps-- more likely-- because Yasu wasn’t in bad shape at all for someone who had been imprisoned for a length of time. Not in _good_ shape, but-- not _bad_. They returned to their side of the bridge hand-in-hand, the shinobi who had escorted the prisoner across following them close behind. They disappeared into the trees shortly after, the two medical-nin smiling and all of them talking quietly amongst themselves, and only then did Ibiki pull his group back home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope everyone enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> turns out my very specific Vibe is ibiki being sick of all these damn kids in his damn interrogation room, or alternately, ibiki deals with medical nin and isn't happy about it  
> feel free to leave a kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed this! tell me what you think!


End file.
